Seeing In Darkness
by CxMinette
Summary: Before Christine, there was Arielle.
1. Arielle

I am not vain, and I never was. I do not suppose anyone will ever read this diary out of more than idle curiosity. I fully expect it to be found by some uncaring stranger someday, and tossed into the fire and not read beyond the first few pages. I do not care. No, I write only for myself, so that in my last days I can relive and remember my life, and go into the next world with my mind clear and calm, with no regrets.

My name is Arielle. To begin where I began, I will write that I was born in 1846, the year of the depression, in a tiny village twenty miles south of Paris. I was the fourth child of my family, and the only girl. My family were poor but honest - my father was a carpenter and my mother a seamstress. Nothing about me was particularly odd, until one July day when I was six years old. I was playing with Jacques, the youngest of my brothers, in the fields near our house that belonged to our nearest neighbour, Monsieur Dupont. We were chasing each other, throwing sticks, that kind of thing - I was such a wild girl, almost like a boy in my attitudes.

"You can't catch me, you can't catch me!" Jacques taunted me, laughing, running away from me across the great green expanse, which seemed to me to be as vast as the sea, which I of course had never seen.

"I can, I can and I will!" I called back running after him as fast as my legs would carry me.

He ran towards a clump of trees on the far side of the field, and I followed, breathing hard. He was two years older than me, and much faster, but I ran on and on, with the sun beating down on my dark little head, kicking up my heels and muddying my frock. Faster and faster I ran, and I followed him into the small glade, keeping my eyes on his fleeing form. I did not see the tree root that rose up from the soil. The last thing I remember is the ground rushing up to greet me, and my own scream in my ears.

Jacques told me afterwards that he heard that scream, and turned around. He found me lying at the foot of an aged oak, with blood pouring from my right temple. The cut was deep, and I still have the scar from that day. Jacques fetched our father, who carried me home in his arms. I did not wake for a month, and lay as if dead, barely breathing. My mother tended me all through that time, Jacques told me, barely leaving my side even though she was with child. She loved me best, as although she was proud of her sons, she had always wanted a daughter. I was the image of her, too. I was dark haired, and tall for my age, with eyes so deep a brown they were almost black. My mother's family had been gypsies, but this was not something I knew then. I did not know how my looks announced my origin.

So, I lay for a month in my living death. I woke one morning to see the sun streaming in through the window, and my mother, my beloved mother, sitting in a chair by my bedside. Behind her, as clearly as I saw the sunlight, I saw a dark angel. They never let me forget the first thing I said.

"Mama, the baby is dead."

My mother jumped up in shock at having heard my voice. "What did you say?"

I burst into tears. Then she held me, and hushed me, and prayed aloud thanking God for my deliverance, and forgot that I had said anything at all.

She remembered, though, barely two weeks later. My little sister was born pale and cold, and never opened her eyes on this world. From then on, my mother avoided me. The superstitious gypsy was still within her, and she was afraid.

It happened again, and again. Once, in a dream I saw my elder brothers Pierre and Louis weeping blood over an upturned cart, which had been filled with things my father had made but which were now strewn all over the road. The next day, on their return from market, they were accosted by bandits, who beat them and then when they tried to fight back held them down, and blinded them both with a knife. They could no longer work, and we came closer and closer to starvation. Another time, I told my father that he should say goodbye to Monsieur Dupont, our nearest neighbour. He shook his head and ignored me. In three days time, Monsieur Dupont's house was ravaged by a terrible fire. 

These things drove my mother to turn from loving me as a cherished daughter to hating and fearing me as bad luck, or a worse, as a witch. She could not bear the sight of me. She spoke to my father, and turned his heart against me. He had never treasured me so much; he had three sons, why should he?

One night, my parents came to me and told me I was to leave. I was to live with a relative of my mother's, a lady who would come for me in the morning. I was to pack up my few things, and go with her. They showed no emotion, these people who I had thought loved me. It was so matter of fact, so quick; I barely had time to take in that I was to leave the only home I had ever known.

The lady who came to our door before dawn the next day was not what I had imagined. Instead of being like my mother in the days before my visions came, as I had prayed for all through the night, she was older, with bad teeth and strange clothes. My father gave her a small bag that clinked, and she took me under her arm and pulled me away. I did not see my brothers to say goodbye, and my parents simply went inside the house and shut the door, not even waving to me.

It was not long before I realised what had happened; it was what I never could have foreseen. I had been sold to the gypsies. I was barely seven years old. 


	2. Sold

I walked with the gypsy lady for an hour before she spoke to me. She used the time instead to size me up, muttering to herself all the while.  
"Yes, yes, pretty yes, will grow up fine, yes, a maid or a cook, yes, or better yet, yes, hmm, maybe her mother tells the truth, yes. Does your mother tell the truth, Arielle"  
I must have looked confused, because she continued.

"Does your mother tell the truth that you sometimes know things that haven't happened yet?"

"Yes," I answered simply.

"Good, good. Can you control it?"

"No," I told her. "I don't know how."

"You will allow me to test you?"

I shrugged my shoulders, trying to affect nonchalance, as she stood considering how to find out if I really could do what I claimed. I was terrified of this odd woman, who looked to me like the witch from a fairy tale. She was not old; she could not have been more than a handful of years older than my mother, not beyond thirty, certainly. She wore a blue scarf wrapped around her head, with big silver hooped earrings. Her dress was long and of many colours, and on her feet she wore workman's boots. He hands were heavy with rings, and her wrists with bracelets, and she smelled of what I now know to be incense. He hair was still pure black, and her eyes were a deep amber. I looked into their depths and I saw…and I saw…

"A boy. It's a boy."

Her jaw dropped. I know this phrase is often used as a metaphor but in her case it was absolutely apt. Her jaw dropped, revealing two rows of yellowing teeth.

"So your mother was not lying. I have told no one…no one…"

She shook her head, and looked at me with something akin to respect.

"Keep my secret Arielle. Do no wrong by me and I will look after you."

"Look after me how? Where do you live?"

She laughed at me, a laugh unexpectedly high and bright.

"Everywhere and nowhere, child. I am part of what you might call a travelling show, and now you are too. You, my dear, are going to be a fortune teller."

I was appalled.

"But I don't want to be! I want to go home!"

"Believe me, it is better to be free and a gypsy than shackled and not. We have wasted too much time already. We must be at the camp by noon. From now on, I am your Aunt Elina. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I answered, "Aunt Elina."

"Good," she smiled, "good".

We walked for perhaps two more hours. I felt my feet were going to fall off by the time we reached the camp. It was larger than I expected, with tents for the exhibits and caravans where the gypsies lived. Aunt Elina took my hand and dragged me through the camp, past families cooking lunch over open fires, past entertainers practising their acts, past horses and past the occasional caged freak. These last frightened me, and I stayed close to Elina's multicoloured skirts.

She took me to her caravan, a tiny poky thing with a small stove, a small bed, and the entire collected detritus of a life.

"You need to sleep now, child. I will bring you food later, and then we shall see if you can impress the customers."

I obeyed, and I slept.

She woke me when the sky was dark and there were the gleeful shouts of visiting villagers come for an evening's entertainment. Elina thrust a bowl of soup under my nose, urging me to drink it down quickly so that she could dress me for my 'act'. I obeyed again, and drank it so fast it burned my tongue.

"Now, let me see, yes, no, not that, too old, darker, mysterious, child wonder, yes yes yes" she muttered to herself, and she hunted around the small space for my costume. I waited placidly, and permitted myself to then be dressed head to toe in black, with a black veil over my face.

"What am I to do?" I asked, as she pulled me out of the caravan and down the steps.

"Simple," Elina answered. "Gaze at their palm until something comes to you. If nothing does, tell them that either love, fortune, or luck is coming their way. Alright?"

It was not alright at all, but I nodded.

She took me to a dark tent, where I sat at a wobbly table on a wobbly chair. Elina stood outside and tried to attract punters.

"Have your fortune told my the child seer, a girl with the gift of the ages, she knows all, she sees all! What about you miss, do you want to know if love is coming your way?"

They came, for hours and hours they came. Men and women, young and old, all wanting to know their future. I gazed at a hundred hands that night, and none told me anything. I kept to what Elina had told me, and they all went away satisfied. It seemed I had another gift - that of the liar.

The last visitor was a man, clearly also a gypsy. He looked at me in a way I didn't like, as if I were something to be bought and sold.

"Hello lovely" he said as he sat down. "Show me what you can do, then!"

I shuddered involuntarily as I took his hand and gazed automatically at his palm. And there I saw. I saw everything. In this man's hand, I saw my entire future, my entire life. It was the first time I saw that face. That face, so twisted and contorted, with eyes that burned with an intensity that drew me in…and I saw…

"You are Elina's lover," I said to the man, trying to control myself.

He laughed, and told me I was right. "Carry on, darling, what else do you see?"

"Money," I answered.

He laughed again, and patted me on the head.

"Run along now, sweetheart. Fetch your Aunt Elina for me, and then get off to bed."

I left, hurrying along to the caravan in the cold night air. Elina was sat on a stool, brushing out her long black hair. She looked up as I opened the door.

"You did well tonight. Keep it up!"

"That man wants to see you."

"What man? Oh, do you mean Vrack?"

"Is he the father of your child?"

Elina's face clouded over.

"Did you tell him about that?"

"No. Why is it a secret?"

"I have a bad feeling about it, yes? You understand? No, of course you don't. Now tuck yourself in. I'll be back soon."

I tucked myself into bed, and fell quietly to sleep, still in my costume. When I awoke the next morning, Elina had not yet come back.

This was the pattern of my life for six long years. I would spend my mornings and afternoons learning to cook, to weave and sew, to make things to sell, then I would spend my evenings telling fortunes in my tent. Sometimes I saw real things, sometimes I made them up. Usually, what I saw were terrible things that could not be told; deaths, accidents, the loss of money, starvation…I grew old before my time looking at other's misery, especially Elina's. Hers are secrets I do not wish to share, but suffice it to say that she suffered greatly in her love for a man who did not want the burden of children.

Then things changed, as they were wont to do. One day in November of…goodness me, I was thirteen so it must have been 1859, yes the year of the Austrian war, one day Vrack returned to the camp after a month's absence. At this time the camp was no longer near my old village, but deep in Picardy far on the other side of Paris. It was the furthest from my old home we had ever been.

Vrack did not return alone. He walked into the camp shortly after lunch, dragging behind him, bound and in chains, a shivering skinny boy with shaggy hair covering his face. The boy was perhaps a year or two older than me, with light brown hair and skin that was originally pale but had been browned with grime.

Elina called out to Vrack "What have you got there?"

Vrack hauled on the chain so the boy fell to the ground.

"I bought him from a man up near the border. Look at this!"

Vrack raked back the boy's hair and held up his head so we could see his face. It was the face I had seen all those years ago in my vision when I first met Vrack. This was the first time I saw the one who would change my life forever. 


	3. Erik

_Ah, it's good to be writing again after a 2 year gap. I'm so pleased to have reviews already; I only started putting this up yesterday! Yes, I had the 'wonder of the East' woman in mind when I described Elina, and it should be really obvious who Vrack is, and what's going to happen to him. I reformatted Chapter 2 - thanks for pointing that out. Anyway, next installment, a bit shorter, but hey._

No one knew his name, as he never spoke a word. He was just known as 'Vrack's boy'. At first Vrack let him have the run of the camp, like some of the other…well I don't want to say 'freaks' although I've used the word before. It's different talking about him. Anyway, he tried to escape so many times that Vrack just kept him locked in a cage. Vrack grew to loathe him in a way that was frightening. He wanted a creature that would terrify the watching public, but the boy would never do anything. After a while, Vrack took to beating him, just to get a response. I saw it once, as I passed his tent on the way to my own. Vrack let himself into the cage, which was surrounded by gawking spectators, and forced the masked boy down onto the ground. Then he beat him with a short staff until he screamed out in pain. Finally, he would pull off the mask, and hold up the boy's head just as he had done when he brought him to the camp.

"Behold the Devil's Child!' he would shout, and the crowd would go mad and hurl coins through the bars. It made me sick. It made me hate Vrack with a burning passion. I was thirteen years old, nearly a woman in form, and Vrack would look at me like he looked at Elina. My skin would creep as if it were trying to get away from his gaze, this evil man who had my guardian utterly under his spell. My pity for the boy went hand in hand with my disgust for Vrack; that coupled with my feeling that there was some indefinable something about the boy. So, I concocted a plan. Vrack would spend every night from midnight on with Elina. That would leave both the boy and I unwatched. I had no thought of what I would say or do when I got there; I suppose I just wanted to let him know that he was not alone. So, that very night, I performed for my public, promising riches and love in abundance. When the customers had gone home, Vrack came for Elina and they disappeared to his caravan. For the look of the thing, I went back to Elina's caravan and sat down. I wanted to take something, give him something, make some solid gesture, but I didn't know what. I looked around the caravan for inspiration. High on a shelf in a dark and dusty corner, I saw it. A toy I had made, long ago, when I was learning, that was not good enough to be sold, but not bad enough to be torn down into pieces and made over. I stood on a stool and took it down. I turned it over in my hands, and wondered if it was enough. It was in the form of a monkey, with cymbals that could be strapped to its hands. At the time I had been so proud of it; yes, I decided it was enough. He was too old for toys and so was I, but I needed something. If I'd thought about it harder I would have tried to get him food, but this late at night it would have looked very strange. I didn't know what would happen if I was caught.

The camp was silent at such a late hour, but I still crept as silently as I could away from the caravans towards the row of tents. It was so dark I was afraid I would walk into the wrong one, but I chose rightly after careful consideration. One candle burned in the corner of the tent, casting strange shadows.

"Hello?" I said, softly. "Are you sleeping?"

He was curled up tightly in the far corner of his cage. He made no movement.  
"I've brought you a gift. I don't know if you'll like it, but I want to be your friend, and I thought..." I trailed off.

He was silent still, but began to uncurl himself. He sat up and looked at me, and the light from the solitary candle flickered over the face that would become as familiar to me as my own.

I held out the monkey, and pushed it through the bars towards him. He reached out and took it, and then retreated. I smiled at this small success.

"My name is Arielle. I would like to ask you what your name is, but they say you can't speak."

He looked up from the monkey, straight into my eyes. Those eyes…they seemed to see straight into my soul. I was hypnotised. I still am.

"Erik", he said. "My name is Erik."


	4. An Attempt at Cunning

_This chapter was more difficult to write than I expected. I hope it still came out alright._

I was startled. He said nothing else, and went back to looking at the toy, turning it over and over in his grimy hands. That a mere glance could be so intense was something new to me. Barely in my life before had I been looked at with anything approaching interest. Abruptly, he dropped the monkey and moved over to the bars of his cage where I was standing. As he stood, by the light of the flickering candle I saw the extent of the damage Vrack's ill-treatment had caused him. His chest and arms were covered in purplish-green bruises, and one of his eyes was a deep chartreuse. He wore a short pair of filthy ragged trousers cut off above the knees, and he was so thin I could see every bone in his body. Tears sprang to my eyes as I took in the sight, and rolled silently down my cheeks.

Standing, he was considerably taller than me. Despite his torn and broken appearance, there was an air about him that suggested a certain self-possession. It was not until later that I knew what he was like when that control deserted him.

He saw my tears, and asked me, "Do I disgust you so much that you weep to look at me"

The bitterness in his voice was harsh to me.

"No, I want to help you"  
"How can you help me? Can you get me out of here"  
"I don't know"  
"Then go away"  
I turned and made to leave, but something stopped me. I thought, if I had been beaten all my life, I would hardly know compassion when I saw it. Why should Erik be any different?  
"No, I will not go away. You will have my friendship whether you want it or not"  
"Why do you care about me?" he asked, pushing his face as close to mine as the bars would allow. "You have an easy life! You don't know what it's like in here - look at you! A pretty face, a nice dress; your gypsy mother even brushes your hair for you doesn't she"  
I stumbled backwards as if I had been hit. "My mother hated me enough to sell me, just as you were sold. No, I am not beaten and starved, but I am just as much of a sideshow as you! I am sorry for you, I am sorry that you are caged up like an animal, but do not attack the only person here who has been disposed to be kind to you"  
With these last words I ran out of the tent as fast as I could, back to Elina's caravan. There I lay facedown on the bed and sobbed until morning, without even knowing why.

They say that gypsies are stubborn, and in me at least this was true. I had made up my mind to do good, and I refused to let such a rejection stop me. Now, so long after the event, I want to say that Destiny or Fate led me forwards - it makes my tale that much more poetic. I am sure you, dear unknown uncaring reading, will permit an old woman her fancies. I decided that if Erik would not accept my friendship, then at least I could save him from being starved and beaten to death. With a little cunning, I decided to play upon my gift. Often, Vrack would come to my tent to have his fortune told. Whether he believed in me or not I was unsure, but I thought if I was convincing enough then there was a chance. It was by no means certain that he would come; if there were many people wanting to see Erik then he would not be able to. I was sure, however, that if I was patient, the opportunity I needed would arise.

Sure enough, a mere handful of days later just before midnight, Vrack came to my tent. "Good evening, lovely Oracle, tell me what the Fates have in store for me!"

I forced myself to smile at him as I took his hand, this hand that was capable of such cruelty. To this day I do not know why Elina loved him. I gazed at his palm with as much attention as I could, then jumped back with a gasp as if it had suddenly scalded me.

Vrack was intrigued. "What did you see, little Sibyl"  
"Ruin!" I shrieked in horror.

Vrack's face immediately turned white. "Ruin? My ruin?"

I met his gaze with my eyes wide and rolling.

"The boy…the boy will die…no more coins thrown, no more coins, nothing ever again!"

I slumped down in my chair as if a possessing entity had suddenly departed. Slyly, I looked up at Vrack to see if my 'prophesy' had had the desired effect. Vrack was shaking his head.  
"I always doubted you, little Sibyl, but now I wonder…"

He got up slowly and carefully, like an old man.

"Thank you very much. Goodnight."

He left unceremoniously, without so much as a lecherous glance. Good, I thought, perhaps I have succeeded, perhaps now he will do all he can to keep Erik alive. With this happy thought, I made my way to bed.


	5. Something Greater

My happiness was short-lived. Whilst Vrack now seemed to feed Erik more - being a nosy and precocious thing I used to spy every now and then, sneaking peeks through a hole in the tent fabric - he would still beat him to ensure that he put on a good show for the punters. I had been arrogant in thinking I could change Vrack's way of working. I considered giving up and leaving Erik in God's hands, but God had never been very good to me so I was not very inclined to trust Him. I hope He will forgive me for that now, now that I am probably going to see Him in not so very long.  
It must seem odd, this determination of mine to secure the life of someone who had in reality given me no reason to even like him. I suppose it was that indefinable something, that sense that somehow he was destined to be a great influence in my life. Perhaps it was a deep sense of pity or human compassion in me; a desire to show another love because I had hardly been shown any since I was six. 

Having said that, if it was true compassion I would not have visited Erik again in order to tell him how compassionate I had been. The same as before, I sneaked into his tent and sat down by his cage after my night's work was finished. This time, he did not feign sleep but was sat upright using the bars of the cage for support. He looked better than before; not quite so skeletal, but still beaten black and blue. As I sat down he snarled at me.  
"What do you want, gypsy?"

"I wanted to tell you that it was me that made Vrack feed you more"

I regretted saying it as soon as the sentence was out of my mouth. I sounded like a child fishing for praise. I waited for his scorn to pour out on my head. But no scorn was forthcoming.

Instead he just asked me, "Why"

"Because I don't want you to die," I replied.

"Why does it matter to you whether I die?" he asked, shuffling over so he was sat opposite me. Were it not for the bars, we would have been sat nose to nose - well, with him a little higher up than me, but you get my meaning.

"Human compassion," I said with as much decisiveness as I could muster.

The truth, I suppose, was that under the bruises, and even with the distortion of the right side of his face, he was, well, beautiful. I know it's not the done thing to describe a young man as beautiful, especially not these days, but he really was. The scrawniness brought on by his starvation at Vrack's hands was beginning to disappear, filling out a body that would one day be strong and masculine. His eyes were deep and oddly soulful, and his voice which was just beginning to settle into its manly tones, was rich and melodic. It was not human compassion that moved me at all, it was the first stirrings of something greater.

"What do you do here? I mean, you are not like me…" he waved his hand to indicate his cage.

"I am a seer," I told him, Elina having decided that this epithet was more of a crowd draw than 'fortune teller'. I expected him to laugh, but he did not.

"What do you see?"

"I see visions of the future. Sometimes in dreams, sometimes if I touch someone I see pictures in my head, or I just have a sense of knowing something. I mostly see bad things."

Slowly, he held his hand out to me through the bars of his cage.

"Tell me what you see for me, Arielle."

Gingerly, I took his hand, enjoying his use of my name. I closed my eyes, and tried to breathe deeply and calm my racing heart. I had never tried to summon a vision on demand before, and I had no idea if it was even possible. Please God, I prayed, please let me _see_…The images came thick and fast, too many to recall. A white face, voices singing, screams, fire, and one image that kept returning. A child, laying on a bed, its mother weeping over its body…I let forth a great sob, and dropped his hand.

"What is it? What did you see?" he asked me, picking up my hand again and holding it in both his own.

"I told you I only see evil things. Sometimes I do not know what they mean. I saw horrible things, horrible things…" I fell into silence. "I saw death."

"Am…am I going to die here?"

I shook my head. "No, no it was not your death I saw, it was someone else's. Someone I don't know."

"Arielle, I'm sorry. I didn't realise how painful it must be, seeing all those things." He paused for a moment, still holding my hand. "I am also sorry for being so cruel to you when you came here before. No one has ever shown me a kindness or given me a gift - for which I thank you, by the way - and I treated you with the same contempt with which I have been treated. You have a good heart."

He lifted my hands to his lips, kissed it, and let it drop. I lifted my head, and with tears in my eyes, I gave him a promise. I did not know then how it would bind me. I did not know how it would break me.

"I will get you out, Erik. I don't know how, but I am sure I can find a way."

"Then I am in your hands, little gypsy."

He smiled, and the world lit up around me.


	6. Elina's Children

_This took a little longer because I didn't quite know what was going to happen. I had intended to update every day as I've got time at the moment, but I don't think I can keep up the creativity - I need some thinking time! Anyway, enjoy the chapter, people, and please review._

It didn't happen. If we managed to escape - and I say 'we' as I did not intend to stay in the camp without him - we would have either ended up trekking through the countryside, or hiding in a small village with no prospects except either starvation or discovery. An added problem, in fact the main problem, was getting Erik out of his cage. We experimented, seeing if we could break the door off its hinges, if we could remove a few of the bars so he could squeeze out, if we could pick the lock, all of which attempts failed. The only way, we decided, was to unlock the door to which Vrack had the only key.

"Do you think I could get him to give me the key?" I asked Erik, late one night as we sat together, the bars of his cage in between us.

"Why would he ever give it to you, or anybody for that matter?"

I thought for a moment. "If he was drunk, perhaps, or if I tried to, well, you know…"

"No!" Erik jumped to his feet. "No, don't say it, don't even think it! You're mine, you belong to me!"

I was paralysed by the force with which he spoke. I was afraid of him then, and yet thrilled by his words. He threw himself on his knees in front of me, all self-possession gone. He grabbed my arms and pulled me towards him, and held me with the bars between us. He held me so tightly it was almost painful.

"Never forget it, Arielle, never. You are mine."

"Yes," I breathed, in his crushing embrace. "Yes."

What a promise to make, at thirteen.

------

Winter turned into spring, and I had my fourteenth birthday. It was one of my most memorable, perhaps even the most memorable. It was the first time that my visions had failed me; a great tragedy befell me, and I had no warning. I pray that Elina will forgive me, I had no intention to tell what she entrusted to me alone, but it has a great bearing on my story.

The day before my birthday I awoke to find Elina sitting on the end of my little bed in our caravan, weeping. It was unusual for her to even be in our caravan, as she was usually with Vrack, and also - it occurs to me now - in that I had never seen her cry.

"Aunt Elina? Has something bad happened?"

"No, child, nothing that hasn't happened before."

Then she almost swooped on me, and held me close to her as if she were my mother.

"Poor thing," she crooned to me through her tears, stroking my hair, "poor female thing. Never fall in love, child, never. It brings only sorrow."

"Aunt Elina", I said, pulling myself out of her arms. "Has something happened to Vrack"  
Perhaps I was wicked, but I desperately hoped it had.

"No, no. I am with child again, Arielle."

I was not shocked, as I knew this was not the first time for Elina, but her distress was new to me.

"I have rid myself of five children - five! - because he wanted me to. I can't do it anymore, I can't go on like this. I hear them in the night, they call to me and curse me. They call me a murderer, they call me a whore...I always wanted children, I tried to love you like a daughter Arielle but you were not, and I wanted to see my own little ones grow up…"

I had no idea how to soothe her. I tried to put my arms around her, but she brushed me off and left without a backward glance. The next morning, the morning of my birthday, they found her. When the older women went to a nearby stream to get water, they found her laying under a tree on the bank. She had cut her wrists and bled to death.

I did not see her. Her body was buried on the outskirts of the camp, and that night there were no shows. Vrack, of all people, said the death-words over her. I felt more than I would have expected. She had been my protector of sorts, and I did not know who I could turn to now. At funeral, there was no one to comfort me. I was alone in the world, except for Erik.

Vrack came and spoke to me after we had buried Elina.

"Arielle, poor dear girl, you must be so sad. Would you like to come and eat with me? We can talk about it, if you like."

I wanted to howl and scream and rage at him. How dare he not be on his knees begging Heaven for forgiveness? How dare he not be tearing out his hair with pain and remorse?

"No. No I want to be by myself." I quickened my pace, reached my caravan, and locked the door.

The silence was deafening, and for the rest of the night was broken only by the sobs of a frightened girl, who has just been forced to grow up


	7. Escape!

The sheer emptiness that surrounded me was terrifying. All the women were kind to me, of course, but I had no friend in the camp apart from Erik, and he was in a cage. There was no one to protect me from Vrack.

I kept all the money I earned now, which was more than I had thought it was when Elina was taking it. This was offset by the unbridled joy of having Vrack visiting my tent every night, usually drunk, wanting to tell me how lonely he was. I got into the habit of leaving early, and abandoning my tent for my caravan, where I would lock the door and hope he would never come near me again.

That summer, I could feel change coming like some people say they can smell a storm. I told Erik, who I saw much less frequently now thanks to Vrack, and he asked me to see for him again. I obeyed, but there was only darkness, and the sound of a woman singing. 

I shook my head in annoyance and tried to concentrate.

"What? What can you see?"

"Ugh, I can't concentrate with that singing going on."

"What singing? I can't hear any."

He was right. The camp was silent. I shrugged, and supposed I had imagined it.

I must confess I had not thought much about our escape plan, but it was mere weeks before the opportunity arose. It was decided, by the elders of the camp - a sort of council I suppose - to leave the small villages and towns through which we had always travelled, and to try our luck in the capital. We were on the outskirts of Reims then, a town perhaps ninety miles to the west of Paris, so it was not a quick journey. We didn't even stop in the villages along the way, but just continued on and on from dawn until after dusk when the horses were too tired to drag the caravans any further. I did not see Erik, did not even know where he was, I just kept myself to myself.

It was a Sunday when we reached Paris, and the sun was setting causing the sky over the city to turn a strange red. It looked like a city damned. We set up camp in the Bois, ate a quick meal, and retired to bed. Well, the women and children did, the men stayed up for hours pitching the tents and setting up the 'attractions'. I heard them long into the night, and did not fall asleep until the birds had begun to sing.

The next morning, there were already visitors to the camp - well, the 'fairground' part of it where the attractions were set up. I had never seen people come to see us before the evening before, but then these were people who actually had leisure time, and not the peasants that I was used to entertaining.

I worked all day. My gift was heightened, and I saw something in almost every hand I held. All the evils of the world were there, far more so than in any farmer's hand. Murder, robbery, rape, adultery - I laugh now to think how my fourteen-year-old self judged this last evil. Everyone that faced me across my rickety table, watching me pretend to gaze into my crystal ball, read their palm, or tell their cards - as if I need any of that - seemed vile and hideous to me.

I must have sat in that tent for fifteen hours, with barely time to eat. By midnight, I was exhausted, physically and mentally. When I finally, finally got up to leave, Vrack appeared in what I suppose I must call my doorway.

"Good evening, little Sibyl, and how are you?"

He was drunk, and more than drunk. As he came forward into the tent, the light from my solitary candle caught his face. Tonight, he did not intend I should escape him.

"I don't see you so much anymore," he slurred as he stumbled forwards.

"I was just leaving. Goodnight." I tried to get past him, but he blocked my way.

"No no no, little Sibyl," he growled, backing me up against my little table. "I think you should stay here. I think you should be a little more friendly."

He reached out and ran his hand over my cheek. I tried to suppress my revulsion and not let my disgust and hatred appear on my face.

"We used to be such good friends" he chuckled, "I think we should get…reacquainted."

He made a grab for me, and I clutched at the first weapon that came to hand. As hard as I could, I hit him over the head with my crystal ball. He staggered, so I hit him again. He fell to the floor, unconscious. I would never have been able to best him if he hadn't been drunk.

I started to run, but then it occurred to me that this could be the opportunity Erik and I had waited for. I crouched over the prone Vrack, and unhooked his ring of keys from his belt. Then I ran.

I ran all the way to the tent in which Erik was caged. It took me longer than I expected as I did not yet know which one it was, but when I finally found him he was utterly asleep.

"Erik! Erik! Wake up! We're going to get out!" I hissed frantically, poking him through the bars of his cage.

He woke slowly, while I began the tiresome process of discovering which key unlocked the door to his cage. I was lucky, and it was the third key I tried. I threw the key ring aside, and ducked through the door into the cage. I dragged Erik to his feet, and was suddenly overawed by his nearness. There would never be bars between us again. There was no time, however, for emotion. Shouts came from the other end of the camp.

I took hold of Erik's hand, and pulled him towards the door.

"Come on, we don't have much time!"

Dragging Erik behind me, I ran and ran and ran as fast as I could. I ran until I thought my feet would burst into flame and my mouth was dryer than desert. By the time the angry shouting from behind us had silenced, the Bois was far away and we were deep in the maze of streets that was one of the less-affluent parts of the city.

We sat down in a doorway together, and he put his arms around me.

"We're free, Arielle! I have never know what it's like to be free."

There were tears in his eyes as he kissed me for the first time. 


	8. The Wandering Gypsy

_Apologies for taking so very long to update. I had internet problems at home, then I came back to university and had internet problems here as well! Due to the demands of actually getting a degree I'm going to have to update maybe once a week or something. Thanks for the reviews, it always makes me smile to think people enjoy what I write! So, this is the super slushy bit today. Let me know what you think. _

My God, that night! It seems like yesterday and like a lifetime ago. Well, I supposed for me it actually is more or less a lifetime ago. How time flies. But to continue with my tale.

So there we were, huddled on a doorstep in the dead of night. Occasionally a singing drunk would wander past us, or some prostitute on the way to 'work'. It was cold, and I was afraid. Erik could feel me shivering as I pulled in closer to him, trying to share his warmth.

Erik sighed loudly, and I felt his breath tickle my ear.

"This isn't right. We have to find somewhere to sleep."

"Where? We don't know the city."

"Come with me," he said, and pulled me to my feet.

We meandered through the streets, hunching into the shadows when anyone came past for fear it might be someone from the camp, or worse. Eventually, we came to what during the daytime was probably a bustling thoroughfare. This late at night, though, it was deserted apart from those who make their living in the darkness. As luck would have it, there in front of us was a tall, thin, grubby building with a sign hanging above the door that announced by its existence that this was an inn. The paint had peeled to make both picture and lettering unreadable, but it has since been repainted. Now, I know that my first night with Erik was spent in an inn called 'Le Gitan Errant' - 'The Wandering Gypsy'.

Erik marched boldly up to the door and knocked. After an age it was opened by an elderly woman in a nightdress with a candle in one hand, who was clearly angry about being woken up.

"What do you want?" she growled.

"A room for me and my…sister, please."

She looked me up and down, holding her candle above my head to get a look at my face. I realised later she must have been checking that I wasn't a whore. She spat the price of the room in my face, and I handed over a little of my hard-earned silver.

"Follow me," she said, turning and beckoning us inside.

She led us up and up, right to the top of the building to a room that had clearly once been servants quarters. The bed - there was only one - was narrow, and looked liable to collapse at any moment. There was a thin blanket, a thin pillow, and a thin mattress. There was also a shaky washstand with a chipped jug and basin resting atop it, underneath a small grimy window that looked out over the rooftops of the poor of Paris. A candle in a holder rested on the floor.

"May we have a light for this?" asked Erik, picking up the candle and brandishing it at the old woman.

Grumbling, she allowed him to light the candle from her own. As he held it, the old woman saw Erik's face for the first time. I saw her eyes widen, but she said nothing.

Still grumbling, she turned and left us. Erik bolted the door behind her, and as he did so my so-far-withheld tears began to fall. Erik carefully set the candle down, and took me in his arms. Having hardly ever been looked after in my short life, being protected and cared for was a new experience. This thought did nothing to stem the flow of my tears. Erik's kisses, however, soon did.

Remember, unknown reader, that I was afraid of all that was outside our room. Remember that I knew nothing of the ways of love. Remember reader, above all, remember that I was a mere fourteen years old.

By the light of our one candle, and the thin rays of moonlight that entered through the grimy window, on the aged bed with the thin mattress, thin blanket, and thin pillow, I gave myself to Erik.

Fourteen years, goodness, fourteen years old. Fourteen and in love. Fourteen and foolish. I was far too young to understand the import of that night. Now, I look in the mirror at my wrinkled face and wonder if we had stayed on the doorstep whether our lives would have been utterly utterly different.

Afterwards, as we lay together in each other's arms, I told him I loved him. He turned to me, kissed me gently, and said the same. In the warmth of mutual adoration, we slept.

_Sorry it's a little shorter that usual. It was going to be longer, but this seemed like a natural cut-off point. Oh, and in answer to michi-nin, __I can't remember if Madame Giry will be in this, because I have temporarily misplaced my story plan. Eek!_


	9. Alone

_Sorry this took a while, but things have been hectic - hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!_

I am cold now, so I rise carefully and close the window. Returning to my desk, I take a blanket from my closet to throw over my legs.

Now, where was I? Oh yes. I remember. My God, how I remember.

We awoke to the noise of the old woman bashing on the door, telling us to get out. We dressed hurriedly, and were thrown out into the street without ceremony.

"Hmph. The people of Paris are friendly then," I grumbled.

"Shh. As long as we're together I don't care." And he kissed me, right there, for anyone to see.  
It was then, that moment, I heard such terrible derisive laughter. It rang in my ears, and I grew afraid. I looked around, but there was no one near us and certainly no one laughing with such a force of cruelty.

"Are you alright?" I returned to my senses to find Erik looking at me with concern.

"Yes, yes I'm fine I just thought I heard…something."

"You're probably just hungry. Let's go and find something to eat."

We wandered for a little while through the streets, which became more crowded as we went. Eventually we found a market selling fresh food of all different kinds. With some of my silver, we bought ourselves some bread and some apples, and sat on the steps on a church to eat them.

Then I heard it again. That hideous laughter, with such mockery in its tone that I jumped up and cried out in fear. If only I had remained silent! Those near us turned and stared at my cry, and among them was the man I had come to fear most in all the world. Vrack.

My heart stopped. The following few seconds are a blank in my mind, and the next thing I knew I was holding Erik's hand and running, running as fast as I could until my feet felt like they were on fire. Vrack had not been alone. There were others from the camp there buying food from the market stalls and drumming up custom. They all gave chase; Erik had after all been a lucrative crowd-draw for the camp. The last thing Vrack wanted was to let him get away again.

We ducked and dived through the hordes of people, pushing and shoving in our desperation to escape. It was no use though. Erik was still not strong after so long of little food and beatings, and I was ill-accustomed to such long-distance running. Slowly but surely, they gained on us until I could hear Vrack's breathing behind me. If only I had run faster. When Vrack's hand fell on my shoulder and pulled me roughly to the ground I almost choked on my own terror. I thought I was going to die then and there on the Paris street, but Vrack ignored me and made a grab for Erik. Erik would have got away, but that he saw me thrown aside on the cobbles, and tried to turn back to get to me.

"Arielle! Arielle!" He tried to dodge past Vrack but it was no use. One of Vrack's cronies held me down. I struggled against him, and he hit me across the face, hard. I felt as if my eye would explode, and I tasted blood in my mouth. I saw Vrack hit Erik again and again until blood was pouring from his nose, his eyes were black and his lips split. As he lost consciousness, Vrack slung him over his shoulder and began to walk back the way we had come.

"What about this one?" called the man who held me.

"Leave her," Vrack snarled, "she's not worth anything."

So I was left there, in the muck, ignored by all and forced to watch Erik being hauled away knowing there was nothing I could do except cry with the pain in my eye and my mouth, and the pain in my soul.

The rest of the day passed in a blur for me. I walked and walked, not knowing what to do. If I had thought I was alone when Elina died, I was even more so now. I awakened out of my stupor at dusk, after having wandered without eating or even sitting down since Vrack took Erik. I was in a more prosperous part of the town where the houses were large and the streets far cleaner than the area where I had spent last night.

I was more tired than I had ever been in my life before, and was at a loss for what to do. I tried to search for a boarding house, but this was far too nice an area to have anything less than hotels for rich people. I gave up in the end, and settled into the first doorway I came to. I fell quickly into fitful sleep, dogged by the pain and by terrible dreams. I hoped more than anything that I would die.


	10. Proposal

_Again, apologies for the long wait. Exams and revision, revision and exams! This chapter brings the story on quite a long way, and I hope you enjoy..._

If I had chosen any other doorway on that street, I dread to think what might have happened to me. The house I had inadvertently chosen was owned by the de Vire family, old aristocrats who had lost their title, but not their wealth, in the Revolution of the last century. It was the head of this family, thirty-year-old Colonel Xavier de Vire, who discovered me the following morning. The house was not the residence of the de Vires, but had been kept for three generations as a place for faithful servants to live out their days once their time of service was over. At the time of my arrival, it was occupied by Colonel de Vire's former nursemaid, Madame Maillot. When the Colonel found me asleep in his doorway, he was making his monthly visit to this good lady. This is where I must thank God for my good fortune. Instead of simply kicking me into the street, as most men would do to a vagrant girl, the Colonel picked me up in his arms, and took me into the house. He told me later that he had looked at my face and thought me the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He said that despite my injuries there was a hopeful innocence about me, and he wanted to save me. In that moment, he told me, he fell in love.

I did not awake from my sleep until noon. Finding myself in a plush bedchamber, wearing a clean nightgown with an elderly woman I had never seen before mopping my brow, I was convinced I was dreaming.

'Colonel, she is awake,' the woman said, turning her head to address someone I couldn't see.

'Where am I, Madame? Who are you?' my jaw was aching, and I could only see out of one eye.

'You are in my house, and this is Madame Maillot. She has been taking care of you since I brought you in yesterday.'

A man appeared behind the elderly woman, behind Madame Maillot. He was tall and handsome, with a military bearing.

'Why?'

'Why did I bring you in? Because you needed help, child. And what is your name?'

'My name is Arielle Dupont, Monsieur. I am very grateful to you for your kindness.'

'Not at all. I am Colonel Xavier de Vire. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.'

It was with this stilted conversation, that felt to me like something unreal, that began a new stage in my life. If I were to go into detail about every moment of the time I spent in that house, this journal and many more like it would be filled to bursting with little anecdotes. I was there for perhaps a month, recovering from my ordeal. I had caught a slight chill in addition to my wounded eye and jaw, and Xavier - as he instructed me to call him, and I must note that at the time I did not know society and so I did not know what a great breach of etiquette this was - would not let me even consider leaving until I was well and healed. Madame Maillot nursed me, and Xavier visited every day gradually telling me more and more about his life but tactfully not questioning me.

He told me about his father's death the previous year, and his becoming the patriarch of his family. He lived primarily in one of the fashionable districts of Paris, and was nominally a Colonel in the French army. Since his father's death, however, he had become more of a career landowner than a soldier. He had been married before, but his wife had passed away in giving birth to their child, which had also died. It pained him to speak of it, but in his quest for my trust he hid no detail.

One day he came to visit me when Madame Maillot was not at home. We sat in the drawing room, in armchairs opposite each other by the fireplace, and made idle small talk, until a pained look crossed his face.

'Arielle, there is something I must say to you. I must tell you that from the moment I saw you I have loved you, and our time together has only strengthened my feelings.'

He knelt before me on the hearthrug and took my hand in his.

'Will you be my wife, Arielle Dupont?'

Looking into his bright earnest loving face, I knew I could not reciprocate his sentiment. But I also knew something else, something that could feasibly ruin me forever in the eyes of the world if I refused him. He was a good man, I reasoned, I cared for him and he would make a good husband. I loved Erik, but I believed I would never see him again. I was still only fourteen, so it would be necessary to have an engagement of two years before we could marry. I told Xavier this, but he was still willing.

It was then that I committed that crime that so many women have done to save themselves. No, not to marry a man they do not love but to take advantage of a good man and use his name for that which is not his.

'Yes, yes I will be your wife.'

He kissed me then, and I kissed him back shutting out the image of Erik and trying to believe that this was not a terrible betrayal. That day, that black day, I knew what I had to do. Using my innocence as a weapon and a lure, I seduced Xavier that night. He, poor man, wept with guilt afterwards feeling that he had taken from me that which I had in truth given Erik, and brought me into sin by doing so before we were married.

Poor man, poor dear man. It had to be done, you see, because it was this day that I knew beyond a doubt that I carried Erik's child. I knew that alone I could give the child nothing, but even the illegitimate offspring of a de Vire would never want for anything. Since I was to marry Xavier, it would all come right in the end. Yes, I told myself, as I cried myself to sleep, it would all come right in the end.


End file.
